


A Very Moxley Christmas

by Luces



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: A Christmas Carol, Christmas, Gen, Scrooge - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luces/pseuds/Luces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Christmas Carol variation starring a young Dean Ambrose as Scrooge. Based on his time in the indies. This is inspired by a prompt from m-i-s-s14 on tumblr. Featuring: Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns, Sami Callihan, Nigel McGuinness, Jimmy Jacobs, and Drake Younger. M for language and possible heavy subject matter. Told in 3 parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Ugh, Christmas fucking sucks." An inebriated Jon Moxley slammed down his glass of whiskey and rubbed his temples.

"Aww, don't be such a Scrooge, sir." The bartender placed a final glass of Jack in front of the young wrestler.

It was a quarter to midnight on Christmas Eve and the bar was closing early for the holiday. The bar was decorated with colorful strings of lights and tiny wreaths adorned with red bows. It all made Mox sick to his stomach.

"Yeah, bah fucking humbug, asshole. Look, there are two ways to celebrate Christmas. Either the religious way, in which why the fuck should I spend my day in worship of things I don't give two shits about, and the family way, which I gave up on years ago once I realized that my family didn't give two shits about me. So the way I see it, it's a time of year where people spend money they don't have, eat like shit, and pretend to like people they actually hate just cause they feel obligated to see them once a year. What's the fucking point?"

"That's depressing,sir. So you're saying you have no holiday traditions? What're you gonna do tomorrow then?"

"Oh, I have my traditions. Tomorrow I'm gonna stay drunk all day and jerk off until I can't feel my dick anymore." He threw back the fresh glass of booze and wiped his mouth. "You know what? I think I'm going to go get a head start now."

He reached into his wallet and threw down exactly enough cash for the drinks he'd had and no more. No standard tip. No extra tip as a kind holiday gesture. He slid off the stool and threw his coat on as the bartender gathered the money and rang out the tab. Mox was right by the door when the bartender noticed that the bitter man who'd been drinking all night was also a stingy bastard.

"Merry Christmas, sir," the man sighed. His attempt at a cheerful goodnight was greeted with Mox's middle finger.

It was quite cold outside, as Philly often was at the end of December. Mox blew warm air into his hands and then shoved them in the pockets of his jeans. He walked back to his apartment as quickly, or as quickly as he could given how much he'd had to drink. The Christmas trees lighting up the windows of people's homes pissed him off and he just wanted to fall into his chair and shove his hand down his pants.

When he arrived at his building, he nearly tripped over a young boy who was sitting on the curb.

"What the fuck is your problem, kid?"

"Sorry. Are you going into that building?" The boy stood up and Mox noticed that he looked about ten or eleven years old.

"Yeah. Why? You thinking about trying to mug me or something, kid? Cause the joke would be on you. I don't have any more money on me."

"No. My mom kicked me out of the house because her boyfriend came over. So I'm stuck without a place to sleep. I've been waiting for someone to come back here so I can sneak into the building and sleep in the hallway so I'll at least be out of the cold."

"You don't have any friends you could stay with?"

"Nah, not really. You're no fun to be around when you're the poor kid with an alcoholic mom."

"Yeah, I know how that is. Well, good luck to you, kid. Suck it up and power through it. That's what I did. I'd tell you it gets better, but that'd probably be a lie."

He stepped over the boy and ascended the stairs, unlocking the main door and stepping inside. He paused for a moment, then turned around and stuck his head outside again.

"Hey kid," he muttered. The boy perked up and he looked behind him, only to receive a jacket thrown at his face. "You can use that as a blanket or whatever," he added as he closed the door behind him.

He staggered into his small apartment and fell into his chair, not bothering to turn the light on. He shut his eyes for a moment, thankful to be back where he felt safe. His roommate was gone, visiting family for the holiday. It was nice to be alone for a while.

He felt himself begin to finally relax when a noise startled him. It sounded like feet shuffling paired with metal against the wooden floor. He jumped out of his chair and ran to flick on the light switch. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he found his friend and former tag partner sitting in a metal folding chair.

"Sami? What the fuck are you doing in my apartment? Did I leave the door unlocked? Why aren't you in fucking Jersey? Christ, how drunk am I?"

Mox staggered backward and fell into his chair. Sami scratched the hair on his chin as he looked over his old friend. He eventually sighed and leaned forward in his seat.

"I figured you'd be fucking drunk, dude. Don't get me wrong, I love to drink, but I've learned when to stop before I make a fucking fool of myself. Also I like my damn liver. I get that you hate Christmas, Jon, I do, but this is kinda fucking pathetic, don't you think?"

"Don't you dare fucking patronize me, Sami. I've seen you exactly like I am right now. Worse even."

"Yeah, back when I was 19 or 20. But I've realized that I have to grow up and get serious about my life. I love the indies, but I don't want to be hustling down here forever. I don't know about you, but my ultimate goal is to get to the big show. I'm gonna main event Wrestlemania someday and fuck, man, I want you there with me. But the path you've been going down… I fear that you may not even be around to see it happen. I hate to see you like this. We're getting older, dude. How much longer can you keep this shit up? The drinking, the women, the deathmatches. It's only been about two years, but it feels like you've aged ten. Do you really want to end up like those grizzled old vets who can't walk? Who've lost all their money to addiction? Or scariest of all, with all the cutting and the blood, the chance of you becoming infected with something that can't be cured is really fucking high."

Jon glared at his friend. He wasn't sure if it was the haziness from the alcohol or if he was just tired, but he still couldn't figure out why Sami would be in front of him right now. He must be hallucinating. He dug his wallet out of his pocket and threw it at him. Sami swiped it out of the air and rolled his eyes.

"I'm here to tell you that you're going to have some visitors tonight, Jon. Three ghosts. Expect the first one at 1 am. Hopefully they'll be able to convince you to get your shit together, man. For your sake."

"Could you be more cliché, Callihan? It's Christmas and I'm a baaad man so you're going to surprise me at home and get all Dickens and shit on me? Get the fuck outta here." Mox got up and wandered into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge.

"Scoff all you want. Deep down, you know I'm right."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Sa-"

When he had turned around after grabbing his beer, Sami was gone. Mox went searching through the small apartment, but he was nowhere to be found. He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed before returning to his chair. He glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was 12:48 in the morning. He chuckled low under his breath and thought that he might as well stay up and wait for this supposed "first ghost of Christmas".


	2. Chapter 2

Mox slowly sipped his beer, watching the clock as it gradually changed with each passing minute. One o'clock came and went with nothing. By the time it was 1:03, he laughed to himself and stood up. He headed toward the bathroom to take a piss, but when he opened the door, he let out a yelp. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, but sure enough, Nigel McGuiness was standing there, brushing his teeth.

"Nigel? Wha…I haven't seen you in years. Why are you…? Oh, give me a fucking break. Are you the first 'ghost'?" he asked, making air quotes with his fingers. "Did Sami put you up to this? How much did he pay you? This is so fucking stupid…"

"Yeah, you tosser. I am the first ghost, although I'm not  _really_  this Nigel fellow you speak of. It's just easier for us spirits to take the form of someone meaningful in a person's life, you know?" He spit out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth with water. "So you're ready for this, yes?"

"Ready for what? To go on some magical spiritual journey through my past so that my present and future will be so much clearer!" Mox made wild over-the-top gestures with his hands as he spoke.

"Yes, basically."

Nigel took the young wrestler by the hand and instantly they were in what appeared to be the living room of a drab, barely furnished apartment. Jon soon realized that it was the apartment he grew up in. He slowly walked around the room, taking in all the details that time had caused him to forget. The dust on the TV. The mark on the wall from where his marker accidentally slipped off the paper when he was doodling one day. It was all here. He felt a shiver run through his body. He'd done so much to separate himself from this place. It made him uncomfortable to be back there.

He came across a newspaper shoved in between one of the couch cushions and saw that the date was December 24, 1993. It would've been difficult to guess that it was Christmas Eve by the look of the house. The only hint of decoration was a small tree in the corner of the room. It only stood about three feet tall and it was covered in paper ornaments and a short strand of white lights. It was no Charlie Brown tree, but it wasn't anything spectacular either.

Mox crouched over by the tree and played with one of the paper stars between his fingers.

"I remember this. I was really proud of this tree because I found it and decorated it myself. My mom couldn't afford one that year, so I cut down a small tree that had been growing across the street. Her boyfriend told me it looked like a piece of shit, but fuck him. This little tree was awesome."

Nigel noticed as a smile appeared on Mox's face.

"It seems you loved Christmas at one time."

"Yeah, when I was a kid. It's kinda magical then, right? Like even if you're a poor kid and in a tough neighborhood, Santa still makes it to your place. You don't really see the negative side of it that you see as an adult."

The two of them were startled when they heard the TV turn on behind them. They turned around to see a young boy sit down on a pillow in front of the screen. The narrator was explaining how the Grinch was stealing Christmas and young Jon's eyes were wide and happy. Nigel watched as adult Jon stared at his young reflection, so enraptured by the show.

A woman who looked about thirty suddenly burst into the room, dressed up like she was going out on the town.

"Okay, I'm going to work now. Don't do anything stupid like burn the fucking house down, okay?"

"Yeah mom. I'm not a fucking idiot."

Nigel placed his hand on Mox's shoulder. They watched as his mother took a swig of vodka before leaving the house. Mox knew where his mother was going, and Nigel could feel how tense the young wrestler had become. The door slammed closed and young Jon hit himself on the head three times, causing adult Jon to flinch.

"That's what I'd do to try to get the image of my mother working out of me head. Thought it might make me forget. Never worked." He sighed and rubbed his temple. "Can we leave? I get the point that I wasn't always bitter about the holidays, but this is pissing me off now."

Nigel nodded and snapped his fingers. They suddenly appeared in a smoky crowded bar. Rock versions of Christmas music played in the background, but they could barely be heard over din of the people.

"This is…?" Mox inquired.

"This is the annual HWA Christmas party," Nigel explained. "Always on the weekend before Christmas, every year. The one we're watching is from 2004."

They moved through the crowd until they found a table in the back where a freshly 19 year old Jon Moxley was holding court. A pint of beer was in his hand and a curvy young woman was on his lap while he was surrounded by other women and a few of his fellow wrestlers.

Nigel raised his eyebrows at the scene. "I think I may have been up at the bar that night and hadn't seen you. Spill it. How'd you get drinks when you were still a fuckin' kid? Did you pay someone? Did the ladies slip them to you?"

"Nah. I had a really good fake ID. No one ever questioned that I wasn't twenty-one. It was pretty fucking cool."

They watched as the teenage Mox bit the woman on the shoulder and pulled the strap of her dress down with teeth, making her giggle and moan. Moments later, the founder of HWA, Les Thatcher, came out of the sea of people and stopped to ask if Jon was having a good time.

"What do you think, Les? There's only one other thing that could make this night better and I'd be arrested if I did that in public." He leaned his mouth forward and grazed his teeth on the woman's ear.

"Well Jon, I'm glad you're having fun tonight, but remember we still have training in the morning. So pace yourself, kid. I don't want you showing up late, drunk as shit tomorrow."

"I'm appalled, Les! You think I'd do such a thing? I am a professional! I will be on time tomorrow, but not early." He turned his head and placed his lips against the woman's ear. "Because I never come early," he said suggestively, sending the woman into a fit of giggles.

"Mate..." Nigel groaned. "That was fucking terrible."

"I know, I know. I thought that was good dirty talk back then." Mox sighed and dug his hands into his pockets. "So is there anything else then? I'm pretty sure I continued to drink, fucked that chick, then showed up to training on time but hungover as shit. Les just shook his head at me, but let me stay."

"No, that should be it." He was about to snap his fingers when he paused. "Actually, there is one more thing. Remember the conversation we had when you were thinking of quitting wrestling years ago? That was a major crossroad in your life. Things could've gone two different ways, but you chose to stick with wrestling. This is another crossroad. An even bigger one. Think about it, mate." He put his thumb and middle finger together and snapped.

Mox opened his eyes and found himself back in his living room. He chuckled to himself and muttered under his breath. "Ghosts and spirits, huh? It was just a weird dream."

He decided to go sleep in his actual bed. Maybe being able to lie down would make him less restless. He pulled the blankets up over his body and sighed. His skin began to feel warm against the soft fabric and he closed his eyes, awaiting sleep, when he heard a chain rattle.

"You know, for a guy who acts so tough in the ring, you don't look so tough now, all snuggled up in bed."

Mox clicked on his lamp and looked around his room for the mystery intruder. His eyes settled on Jimmy Jacobs playing with the chain he always wore around his neck.

"Jimmy, you're not real. I'm in bed dreaming right now and if I were to jump out of my window right now, I'd wake up and you wouldn't be there."

"Maybe. But I wish I had a camera right now so I could take a picture of you in your jammies. I think it would make for some great ammo against you in our feud, don't you?"

Mox sighed and moved to the edge of his bed. "Okay, spirit dream Jimmy, I'll bite."

"Oh I know, you've bit me many times before."

"Just fucking humor me, dude. What are you here to show me?"

"I'm here to show you the stuff going on right now, dude. The present. Reality."

"I know what my reality is. I'm having a really fucked up whiskey dream and I'm going to wake up with a big fucking hangover."

"I didn't mean your reality, dude. I mean what's happening now to people close to you. Your friends."

"Okay fine, Jimmy. Just snap your fingers already so we can get this over with."

"I don't snap my fingers, Mox." A sadistic grin spread over Jimmy's face as he pulled the chain over his head and rattled it together in his hands.

Mox found himself face-to-face with one of his old HWA friends, Jake Crist. They were sitting at the dining table with Jake's wife Nevaeh and their young daughter having a nice dinner for Christmas Eve.

"Why are you showing me this?" Mox asked.

"I'm showing you some of your peers who are mature enough to know when it's time to be adults. Your peers who have some sort of plan for their future. Jake and Nevaeh here, they have their daughter and each other to protect and care for. They're happy working the indy scene as long as they can come home at night and be with each other."

"That's great and all, don't get me wrong, I'm really happy for Jake, but I don't have a wife or kid."

"That's not the point, asshole. Come on now, I know you're smarter than that, Jon." He shook the chain again and the setting changed to that of a restaurant.

"This doesn't look familiar to me," Mox declared.

"It shouldn't. I also don't expect you to remember this girl's name." Jimmy pointed to a woman bringing food to a large party. "That's the chick you banged at the Christmas party in 2004. Recently she decided to go back to school to finish her degree. She takes classes part-time and works here to support her studies. She made a conscious decision to better herself. "

"That's actually kinda cool… But, dammit Jimmy, we never saw each other again, how is she important to me? Stop wasting my fucking time."

"Fine then. One last stop. The big one."

_Clang_  and they're sitting in the tub of someone's bathroom. The door opened and in walked one of Mox's closest friends.

"Drake! Wait, are we gonna watch him take a shit or something? Come on Jimmy, I don't wanna see that!"

"Dude! Calm the fuck down! Just…pay attention to this one, okay?" He put his hands up, trying to soothe his peer.

Drake locked the door behind him and took the top off of the toilet tank. He reached his hand inside and pulled out a waterproof bottle with pills in it. He opened it up, threw three in his mouth and used some water from the tap to swallow them down. He hid his stash once more and washed his hands while he stared at himself in the mirror. After about a minute, he sighed and shook his head before he left the bathroom.

"I knew Drake did some recreational drugs, but I never knew it'd gotten this bad. He's been doing so well with his girlfriend lately, but fuck, he's actually hiding it from her right in their house?"

"He might be hiding it, but she knows full well what he's doing. Luckily for him she loves him enough to stick with him through it and hope that he makes a positive change. I hope for both of their sakes, he does. He's at a crossroad, just like you. He can continue down the path he's going or he can make a decision to change. People  _can_  change, if they want to put the effort in. It's never too late, dude."

Jimmy turned to Mox and clapped his hand on his back.

"Before I go, I will mention something about your present, and mine. You and I, this past year, have been having some amazing matches together. Some of the best in our careers. If you listen to the message we've been trying to tell you tonight and you get your shit in line… dude it won't be long until you get signed. They'll notice the matches we've had in DGUSA. You're too good for them not to. But if you keep digging down into this rut you're in… I don't know. Shit man, don't be like me a year ago."

"Hmm," Mox pondered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Jimmy, I think you may be riigh-!"

His sentence was choked off by Jimmy throwing the chain around his neck from behind and pulling.

"We're rivals, bro. Never turn your back on me, come on…" Jimmy wrapped the chain around his fist, tightening the metal links into Jon's throat and making his gasp for air. He felt himself getting woozy and sleepy and all at once, everything around him went dark.


	3. Chapter 3

Jon awoke as he fell out of bed onto the floor. His body was tangled up in the bed sheets and it took him a moment to wriggle out of them. He groaned as he picked himself up and headed for the kitchen to have a glass of water. Maybe that would help with the bizarre dreams he'd been having, he thought.

As he was drinking down the water in large gulps, there was suddenly a knock at the door. He choked on the water, coughing a few times as he regained his breathing. He looked up at the clock. 3 am.

"Fuuuuck…" he whispered.

He knew how this story went. Behind that door was the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, here to show him how he was going to die young and everyone would piss on his grave. He took a deep breath and made a hard walk toward the door. Fuck spirits, he thought. None of this shit is real and I'm not afraid of anything, dammit.

He swung the door open to find two men in front of him, roughly his size and stature. They both had long hair and were clad in black.

"Can I help you?" Mox inquired.

"Jon Moxley, right?" asked the thicker man. Mox nodded his confirmation. "May we come in?" the man added.

"Are you both the final spirits? Is that what this is?"

"That's exactly what this is," the spirit with two-toned hair replied as he shut the door behind him.

"Who the fuck are you guys, then? All the other spirits have looked like people I know. I've never met you guys before. At least I don't remember you. Did I say hi to you at some indy show once?"

"No, nothing like that. We're actually two people who you will meet someday. Assuming you get your shit together, that is." The bigger man folded his arms and stared down at Mox, who'd sat back in his chair. He was certainly trying to look intimidating and succeeding at it.

The smaller man stepped forward and began to explain. "My name is Seth Rollins. You probably have heard of me as Tyler Black from my past work, but my future lies in the WWE with this name. This man to my right is Roman Reigns. In a little over a year's time, you can join us in Tampa and someday, we're going to be one of the biggest stables in the history of wrestling."

"I'm going to become your best friend and Rollins here will eventually become your biggest rival. The three of us will define each other's careers and we'll be the kind of wrestlers we've dreamed about being. But it's all up to you, uce." Roman's eyes looked full of concern.

Jon scratched his head and narrowed his eyes. "So what happens if I don't make changes? Do I die or some shit?"

"Not exactly," Roman frowned. "Let's show you."

Seth and Roman pressed their fists together and the three of them appeared at a wake. The room was littered with indy wrestlers who Jon had met over the years. He looked around and wasn't able to see himself in the crowd of men and women consoling each other.

"So I must be in that coffin, huh?  I thought you said I didn’t die,” Mox mused while he approached the open coffin at the front of the room.

“We did. That’s not you in there, man,” Seth sighed.

Mox’s eyes widened as he saw who was inside. It was Drake. It didn’t look like he’d been in a freak accident or anything. He just looked like he was sleeping. Mox’s face screwed up into a frown and he took a step back. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and gently bit his bottom lip.

“So…that’s it then? He dies, just like that? What fucking happened?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“He overdosed on somas.” Roman folded his arms and stepped up next to him. “His addiction got the best of him. His girlfriend tried an intervention at one point, but it didn’t work. One day, he took one too many, apparently. He had been on the road at the time and no one had been around to stop him or try to get him to a hospital. It’s already been a terrible burden on his girlfriend and their unborn daughter.”

“What? She’s pregnant?”

“Yeah. She had gone to the doctor while he was on the road and she was going to tell him when he came home, but…” Roman’s voice trailed off when he noticed Jon getting visibly distressed.

“So where am I? Why am I not at the wake of one of my best friends?” he cried.

“You want to be, but you’re dealing with your own stuff back home.”

Seth and Roman touched their fists together once more and the group abruptly stood in a hospital room. Jon stared at himself lying in the bed quietly while nervously looking at the door.

“Oh Christ, what the fuck happened to me?!”

A doctor walked in with her lips pursed together as she looked at his chart.

“So I have the results of the blood tests we did, sir, and my suspicion based on your symptoms was correct. Unfortunately you have contracted hepatitis C. I’m very sorry, sir. We can set you up with treatment, but it is not yet a curable disease.”

“Why? How did this happen?” the present Jon yelled at the doctor and at his future self, despite the fact that they could not hear him.

Seth placed his arm around Mox’s shoulder and pulled him close. “As safe as you always were in deathmatches, one of the guys you wrestled had been infected and not known. You were both cut and bleeding and… That’s the risk you take. It’s not a death warrant, but you end up quitting wrestling for the safety of everyone else.”

“I couldn’t just stop deathmatches?”

“It’s possible to contract hepatitis B or C from sweat in contact sports, so after talking to the doctor and getting advice from Nigel, you decide it’d be better to stop altogether,” Seth explained.

“Wrestling is my life. I have nothing else. Fuck…this is almost worse than death,” Mox whispered.

“You can change. You are our friend, our brother. Please. Do this for you. Do this for all of your friends who love you. Do this for your future.”

“The future isn’t written in stone,” Roman added as he to put his arm around Mox. “You create your future.”

Seth and Roman placed their fists in front of Mox, but didn’t touch them yet. They both nodded at him and he reached his own fist out and touched the two of them, making everything fade to black.

Light filtered into the living room and gently warmed the cheeks of Jon Moxley’s face. His eyes fluttered open and he realized that he was in his apartment. Like actually in his apartment.  He gripped his fingers into the arms of the easy chair to make sure that he wasn’t still dreaming. He glanced over at the clock on the wall. It was 7:23 am. It was still Christmas morning. A smile slowly stretched across his face. He hadn’t smiled about it being Christmas in almost twenty years. It felt…good.

He stood up and realized that he had a major hangover.  He went to grab some aspirin to help his hangover and chugged down a glass of water.  He opened up the fridge to look for something to eat and saw the bottles of beer sitting there. He wasn’t going to throw them out, but he decided that he was going to work on practicing moderation and self-control. Drinking was fun, but his life couldn’t be all about getting from one drunk to the next. Unable to find anything worth eating for breakfast, he decided to go out. There was a Denny’s not too far from here and he figured it wouldn’t be very crowded this early on Christmas.

Before he left, though, he decided to give Drake a call.

“Hey man! Merry fucking Christmas!” Drake’s voice was full of happiness, as always. “Oh crap, sorry man.  I forgot how much you hate that.”

“Nah, Drake, it’s cool. I’m trying to embrace it and shit. So how’ve you been doing lately? I haven’t seen or heard from you in a while.”

“I’m doing better than ever! I’m engaged now, brother!”

“No shit! Congrats on that.”

“Yeah, and I’ve decided that I need to make some major changes in my life.”

“You and me both,” Mox mumbled under his breath.

”I’m gettin’ the drugs and alcohol out of my life. This is no way to be if we’re gonna start a family, and a few months ago I realized that I was starting to hate myself and I wasn’t enjoying life anymore. But man, I’ve been clean and sober for about a month now and I’ve been eating a lot healthier and shit man, I’ve never felt better. I am so looking forward to wherever this future will take me.”

Mox wondered if Drake was able to hear how big of a smile he had through the phone. “That’s fucking fantastic. I’m proud of you, man, and I miss you. You gonna be at the DGUSA show next month? Okay, cool. I better get a big fucking hug from you when I see you. Merry Christmas, Drake.”

He hung up the phone and was glad that he was alone as he wiped the mist from his eyes.

Once he was outside, he found the boy from before wrapped up in the jacket he’d given him. His eyes were shut and he looked awfully cold. Mox sat down next to him and lightly placed his hand on the kid’s back.  The boy jolted awake, surprised to find someone near him.

“Hey…you uh…wanna grab some breakfast?” Mox asked awkwardly.

“I don’t have money on me.”

“Nah, it’s my treat, kid. What’s your name, by the way?”

“I’m Mike…and yeah, I’d love breakfast.”

They both stood up and Mox helped Mike balance himself until his feet warmed up. He clapped his hand on the kid’s back as they headed toward food.

“So tell me Mike, do you like wrestling…?”


End file.
